


How to Show Someone That You Love Them

by leighmary



Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-27 18:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighmary/pseuds/leighmary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the ways that Kurt and Blaine show that they love each other. Based on this picture: https://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcipc5vsAr1r7ux7ho1_500.jpg. Takes place in the space after season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make Them Waffles or Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a picture (https://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcipc5vsAr1r7ux7ho1_500.jpg) going around Tumblr and couldn't resist.

_[Make them waffles or pancakes.](https://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcipc5vsAr1r7ux7ho1_500.jpg) _

It would not be much of an exaggeration to claim that Blaine Anderson was, indeed, obsessed with his new Belgian waffle maker. It had initially been Kurt’s purchase, one made impulsively during an all-nighter on the third night of finals week. He had kept the television on to keep from feeling lonely, and Blaine didn’t usually mind the drone of people talking while sleeping (he’d had a lot of practice with their previous roommates), so he resorted to the late-night/early-morning infomercials and his sleep deprived mind was immediately enticed by the stainless steel Waffle Maker Extreme which claimed to make “the fluffiest, most decadent” waffles in the world. At that moment, Kurt believed that it was his goddamn right to have such fluffy waffles and that was how the contraption ended up in their apartment.

Kurt used the waffle maker approximately once before Blaine, inexplicably fascinated, took it over. He began simple enough, with waffles every morning for breakfast, before he took a more experimental approach. Blaine had put brownie batter in the waffle iron, cookie dough in the waffle iron, countless fruits, the occasional vegetable, and more. Frankly, Kurt was tired of the fact that he’d always end up scrubbing burnt, crusty cookie dough off of an appliance that was most definitely not meant for cookie dough and more than a little sick of waffles themselves. Every time he came home from work, exhausted and cranky, to see Blaine tinkering around with the damn waffle maker, he had to remind himself that taking out his frustrations on Blaine was unfair, that the waffles really weren’t that huge of a problem, cookie dough aside, and that he would eventually get bored with it, as he had with the SodaStream. On very good days, the obsession was endearing. On very bad days, it was maddening.

Friday was a very bad day. He had about five million errands to run in a limited time frame (pick up dry his dry cleaning, drop off an internship application, mail out a package to Carole for her birthday), his new leather shoes that had promised to be “comfortable on even the first wear” were not actually comfortable on the first wear, and the blisters on his feet were not helped by the copious band-aids he plastered on them before rushing off to work at the diner, where one too many customers had insulted his intelligence due to a mistake that hehadn’t actually made. He hobbled back to the loft later that night, sniffling slightly because of _course_ his allergies had to act up today of all days, and with an ache in his neck that was most likely due to being tensed all day. It was a day with too much work and too little alone time and he was literally aching to take a long, hot shower, curl up in bed with a crisp, new magazine, and proceed to knock himself out with Benadryl until he was forced into a long, heavy sleep.  The only thing keeping him going was the thought of sleeping in the next morning, lounging around, and (hopefully) having sex for the majority of the day. As soon as he reached the front door, he breathed a sigh of relief, pushing it open tiredly.

“Hey, cutie!” Blaine turned his head from where he was preparing food that was beautifully _not_ waffles.

“Hi,” Kurt sighed, not even attempting to muster a smile as he did his awkward hobble-waddle across the space.

“What’s wrong with your legs?” Blaine furrowed his eyebrows, turning down the heat on the vegetables he was sautéing.

“Polio,” Kurt responded sarcastically before disappearing behind the curtain to their bedroom and plopping down onto their bed, which was extraordinarily comfortable at the moment. He briefly felt guilty for shutting Blaine out and not wanting to talk, as they usually did at the end of the day, but really, who could blame him? He felt like his toes were about to fall off. He carefully slid off his shoes and socks, wincing at the pain radiating from his feet, and began to slowly begin the routine he had just been fantasizing about. As he flipped through articles about the Kimye wedding in his most comfortable monogrammed silk pajamas, hair wet and skin flushed from his shower, he could hear Blaine puttering around in the kitchen, hear his quick typing on the laptop, and hear his absentminded humming to whatever song was stuck in his head. Kurt knew that he must be consciously keeping his distance because Blaine had learned that the last thing a prickly Kurt needed was smothering. Kurt couldn’t be more grateful for his attentive man, who was diligently patient and understanding even during Kurt’s grouchiest days.

Kurt relished in the precious alone time, safe and comfortable in his little corner of the world behind the thick curtain, before giving into his allergy medicine-induced haze and shutting his tired eyes, the material of his pillow feeling even more soothing and perfect than usual. He didn’t fully register when Blaine came to bed but the lack of consciousness didn’t keep him from seeking out the comfort of wrapping himself around Blaine’s middle, his head pillowed on his fiancé’s warm chest.

When he awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of sizzling and a pleasant, sweet smell drifting through the loft. He had managed to make himself diagonal across the bed and without even looking in the mirror, he knew he had red splotches on his face and pillow marks. Regardless, he felt miles better than he had the day before. He felt renewed, and the sounds and smells greeting his senses were certainly enhancing the feeling. He woke up slowly, opting not to move but to simply lie there with his eyes open, taking in everything and taking his time with everything. He heard Blaine’s footsteps before he saw Blaine appear and he felt a small smile spread across his lips. Blaine pushed back the curtain, revealing an adorably decorated breakfast tray (where had he even found a daisy?), with what seemed to be a Belgian waffle that had been covered in strawberries and drizzled in chocolate.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. I was going to wake you up if you weren’t already,” Blaine grinned, setting the tray carefully at the edge of the bed before making his way back up, petting the side of Kurt’s head gently. Kurt let his smile grow a bit more and pulled out an arm from beneath his pillow to start rubbing the sleepers out of his eyes.

“Mmm, yes, I’m awake,” Kurt replied, voice raspy from sleep, “And I see you made me something that looks very, very yummy.”

“Mmmhm,” Blaine affirmed, continuing to pet at Kurt’s thick, wild hair for a few more minutes before resolving not to let Kurt’s waffle get cold. Kurt sat up slowly, propping the pillows behind his back and preening as Blaine carefully arranged the covers around him and set down the tray gently.

“I found a new recipe last night when you went to bed,” Blaine said as he walked around to the other side of the bed, “It’s a Strawberry Cheesecake Waffle.”

“ _Oh my god, I love you,_ ” Kurt practically moaned, picking up the fork and immediately cutting off a piece, wasting no time getting it to his mouth. He let out a few more muffled but delighted sounds as he chewed.

Blaine chuckled, “I love you, too.”

They sat in silence while Kurt ate and drank his coffee. Blaine only stole a few bites and mostly just watched or idly pet the top of Kurt’s thigh from on top of the covers. Once Kurt was finished, he set down the tray on the floor and leaned farther back into his small mountain of pillows.

“So what was that for?”

“Because I know you had a bad day yesterday and I wanted to make sure today was better,” Blaine replied simply, honestly.

“You’re too sweet to me. I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“I know.”

“Remember those shoes I just ordered?” Kurt pivoted slightly so that he could more easily face Blaine.

“The ‘comfortable-even-on-first-wear’ ones?”

“Yeah, those,” Kurt sighed, “Well, I knew it was too good to be true. They’re definitely just like all my other leather shoes. They needed to be broken in gradually and instead I jumped the gun. My feet look atrocious right now.”

“Aww, poor thing,” Blaine pouted, reaching up an arm to stroke the side of Kurt’s face, “And you had such a busy day yesterday, too.”  

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been on the edge of grumpy all week,” Kurt leaned into the touch, curling up his legs beneath him to get more comfortable, “I had just started off feeling negative and everything else just kept adding to it and I swear I was going to snap on you if I had seen you tinkering around with that stupid waffle maker one more—“

“Wait—you have a problem with the waffle maker?” Kurt resisted rolling his eyes at Blaine’s genuine expression of shock and confusion, “Even after all it’s just done for you?”

“Yes, the waffle was very good and that was very thoughtful and sweet of you, but in my defense, you had not actually made me a waffle at that time,” Kurt said, “I had just been stuck peeling crusted cookie and brownie off of it.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I should have thought about that.”

Kurt laughed, “It’s not that big of a deal, sweetie, it was just a little annoyance that got heightened by the far more irritating aspects of life.”

“Still, though. That was inconsiderate of me and I should have—“

“Shhhhhh,” Kurt interrupted his beautiful, adorable, unbelievably earnest and still a tad oblivious fiancé, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against his lips. It stayed slow, both of them reveling in the warmth and intimacy of sharing a bed on a Saturday morning, together, like they had both hoped for when they were trying to fall asleep in high school. That was back when they were alone and it felt like it would take eons before things were exactly how they wanted them to be. Somehow, it all worked out.

“I love you so much, annoying food and drink-maker obsessions and all,” Kurt said quietly when he pulled away, pressing a few more little kisses to Blaine’s lips before settling back against the pillows once more.

“I love you, too… atrocious-looking feet and all.”

“I hope you realize that you’re expected to rub those feet.”

“I will do so gladly.”

The next week, when it was Kurt’s turn to do dishes and he got stuck trying to scrape off the remains of a forgotten-about and crisped burnt waffle, he remembered that glorious foot rub and the time spent with Blaine that day, and decided that he could handle an irritating waffle iron. He would still be using it as a bargaining chip in order to gain another one of those foot rubs, however.


	2. Write Them Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! All feedback is welcomed. xo -Leigh

_Write them letters._

Now that they were living together and had at least been living near each other for quite some time now, Kurt and Blaine never felt any need to write each other love letters. Even when they were long distance, it was never a “thing” of theirs. Skype sex and long text messages and falling asleep on the phone were _things_ , but letters never were. However, once the loft had become theirs and they didn’t have to worry about a sweet note or reminder falling into the wrong hands where they could easily be taunted for being “such old marrieds”, it slowly became a more natural form of communication. It began with a small pink sticky note stuck next to Blaine’s wallet.

_We’re out of milk, can you pick some up on your way back? I’ll make frittatas! Brunch for dinner? xoxo –K_

Blaine went out to run a few errands and procured the milk. He came back to the apartment and dropped it off before hurrying to meet a new friend for lunch. Before he left, he made sure to add a neon blue sticky note on top of the existing pink one so that Kurt would notice when he returned.

 _Got the milk & bagels/croissants from your fave place. Should be back by 6 if not sooner. _♥♥♥♥♥  –B

The notes continued throughout the remainder of the week, small little "I ♥ U's" stuck to the mirror, inspirational quotes that Blaine found on those corny Facebook pages he spent too much time on, and reminders to pick up the dry cleaning, wash the dishes, and  _Would it kill you to take out the trash once, Blaine?_ which resulted in a minor passive-aggressive sticky-note spat that was resolved with the usual make-up sex. 

The next week, Kurt had been busy preparing his audition for a role in a small, original production that was put on by some pretentious snob who was getting his MFA at NYU. The plot made no sense and it tried way too hard to be meaningful, but nevertheless, Kurt figured it wouldn't hurt to have something else to put on his resume and, like with all things, he threw himself into it; he committed every bit of his soul. This meant hours spent repeating his monologue over and over again in the mirror, then without the mirror, then without the script, and then trying to deliver it about twenty different ways before settling upon the one that he preferred, and then changing it up again _just in case_. Blaine had been endlessly patient, giving his feedback carefully, tolerating the endless repetition, and being encouraging while maintaining a certain distance so as to not be too overbearing. However, everyone had a limit; Blaine was reaching his and he was certain that Kurt was, too. A person can only practice so much before the self-imposed pressure to do well morphs into self-sabotage. With that decided, he crept up behind Kurt as he flailed his arms around dramatically, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist.

“HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO—“ He stopped his monologue abruptly, “Hi, Blaine.”

Blaine rubbed small circles on Kurt’s hips.

“Hi, Kurt.”

“What’s this about?” Kurt lowered his voice, his body slowly relaxing into Blaine’s strong arms.

“You’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep this up, dear,” Blaine laughed, “I’m just preventing you from experiencing a nervous breakdown.”

Kurt breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled quickly, sighing.

“You’re right.”

“I’m often right.”

“Not as often as I am,” Kurt smirked, turning in Blaine’s arms to face him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Blaine tilted his head upward so his forehead was pressed against Kurt’s, his sight of Kurt’s beautiful blue eyes going just a tad blurry at the proximity.

“Your nose is getting so freckly,” Blaine teased, leaning to kiss the tip of it.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Kurt closed the remaining distance, pressing a warm kiss to Blaine’s mouth, tightening his arms around Blaine and pulling him closer. The pace was slow, steady, and the perfect remedy for the knot in Kurt’s stomach at the anticipation for tomorrow. It was the anticipation of either a small triumph or another rejection in addition to the many he had already faced, but like always, Blaine would be there. Kurt could be certain of his presence and support for it had been proven time and time again in the past year.

They continued kissing, Blaine’s hands running up and down Kurt’s back, rubbing slightly whenever he felt a tense muscle. He placed his left palm at the curve of Kurt’s lower back and pressed him even closer before grabbing Kurt’s hand and ending the kiss, their faces and bodies still close and intimate.  

“Why’d we stop?” Kurt asked, eyes fluttering back open.

“Because we should move somewhere else so that I can _really_ relax you,” Blaine whispered, a small smile on his face. He stepped away and led Kurt by the hand to their little bedroom corner, easing them both on the bed and coaxing Kurt into lying on his stomach.

Blaine began by running his hands over Kurt’s clothed back, waiting until Kurt had practically melted into the bed before nudging him gently so that his shirt could be removed, followed by his pants. Blaine hummed while he took in all of Kurt’s bare skin, opting to begin at his lower back and work his way up. Kurt’s eyes had fluttered shut, his arms tucked beneath his pillow, the tension in his face completely dissipated. His breathing was slow. Blaine continued massaging him for the next half an hour, ignoring the beginnings of arousal in favor of focusing completely on his determined, ambitious, incredible fiancé. He worked along Kurt’s elegant spine, rubbed out the knots in Kurt’s broad, defined shoulders, and soothed his smooth, pale skin as best as he knew how. When his own hands were beginning to become tired, he leaned down, his still-clothed chest meeting Kurt’s back, and whispered against the short hair on the back of Kurt’s neck.

“You awake, sweetie?”

There was no response, only light, even breathing. Blaine smiled to himself and carefully climbed off the side of the bed, stripping out of his clothes and brushing his teeth before cautiously maneuvering the covers, and Kurt, so that he could pull them over his sleeping boy. He crept into the living room and took out a piece of notebook paper. Once he was done writing, he turned off all of the lights on his way to the bathroom, where he slipped the sheet right next to the sink.

“Hmmph?” Kurt stirred as Blaine returned.

 “Shhh,” Blaine brushed his hair away from his forehead, “Just go to sleep. I set your alarm for your audition tomorrow.”

Kurt nodded before dozing back off. Blaine crawled into his side and scooted slowly so that his chest was aligned with Kurt’s back. He draped an arm across Kurt’s warm, bare skin and tucked his nose at the back of Kurt’s head before drifting off as well.

The next morning, Kurt stumbled into the bathroom, groggily rubbing at his eyes. He reached for his face wash and that’s when he spotted a neatly folded sheet of paper nestled on the edge of the sink. He felt a fluttering in his stomach as he opened it up to see Blaine’s familiar handwriting.

_Dearest Love of My Life,_

_I’m most likely still asleep right now and figured I’d write you “good luck”, because I know you’re too sweet to wake me up so that I can give you a proper send off. You’re by far the most talented person in the whole wide world, even when the world fails to recognize it. You’re going to completely nail this audition and if the snob doesn’t seem to think so, then you can rest assured that the production will be a complete and utter disaster without you in it. I mean, really, who does this guy think he is? He’s just some trust fund baby attempting to make art. But trust me when I say that if you get the part, you’ll make real art out of it. ☺_ _  
_

_You’re probably rolling your eyes because I’m so “cheesy”, but I’d like to think I’m quite the romantic. Anyways, good luck today. I believe in you. I love you. I’m here for you and I’m so, so incredibly proud to call you mine. Break a leg, Kurt._

_All my love and then some,_

_Blaine_ _♥_

Kurt tucked the note into his pants pocket and instead of staring at his lines before his name was called, he read over the letter once more. The nerves all but disappeared.

On his way back from the audition, there was a spring in his step. The people walking too slowly weren’t as annoying, the smell wasn’t quite so bad, the noises weren’t quite as loud, and the small stationery shop he always passed by but had never entered suddenly looked appealing today. So, he stopped inside, and with the help of a little old lady, he picked out the perfect set of light blue, embossed “thank you” notes and a new fountain pen. He stopped by a coffee shop right after and sat at a table with the perfect amount of sunlight and began to write. He put it in the matching envelope and made his way back to the loft. It was midafternoon when Kurt made it back and Blaine was catching up on his reality shows on the couch. He looked up at Kurt’s arrival.

“How do you think it went?” He asked excitedly, face beaming.

“Perfectly,” Kurt sighed happily, making his way over and plopping himself down on the couch next to Blaine, “Especially thanks to a little birdie who gives the best pep talks.”

Kurt handed over his own thank you note and watched as Blaine eyed it before opening it slowly, careful not to rip too much paper.

_My sweet, sweet, Blaine,_

_You’re the best future husband and more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you for believing in me, encouraging me, supporting me, and knowing me well enough to stop me from ruining myself when I start to get too intense. Thank you for the massages, the waffles, the words, the kisses, and the blowjobs. Speaking of which, as soon as you put this letter down, I’m going to attack you and make sure you know just how much I appreciate you._

_Many thanks and all kinds of love,_

_Kurt_


End file.
